


205 - It's Okay to be Flawed

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “a fic with a kind of flawed Van that the reader loves anyway. I don’t really care what direction you go in, doesn’t even have to be the romantic kind of love, just something that kinda says ‘It’s okay to be flawed. Doesn’t make people love you less.’” and “a fic about the reader and van having very different music tastes and they’re tryna get each other to listen to their fave artists but they just can’t help but dislike it. Kinda cute/comical 'arguments’.”





	205 - It's Okay to be Flawed

Van reached out for the stereo again and again, and you kept hitting his hand away.

"Van! Fuck off!"

"This is the absolute worst thing I've ever heard in my entire fuckin' life," he laughed. A hyperbole if you'd ever heard one. "Why do you even like this?"

"I cannot even tell you how wrong you are. Like, Kendrick is a genius. Humble is genius,"

"Genius?!" Van repeated, his voice going all high pitched. He shuffled in the front seat of the car. Your hands tightened on the wheel in anticipation. "I'll tell you about genius-"

"I swear to fucking God, Van, if you bring up Mike Skinner-"

"Mike Skinner writes poetry, Y/N! Poetry!"

"Poetry? See I reckon you're about an 8 or a 9, maybe even 9 and a half in four beers time. That blue Topshop top you've got on is nice. Bit too much fake tan though, but yeah, you score high. Van! Ryan! Ryan Evan McCann. You cannot sit in my car and tell me that is poetry. You are fucking mental."

Van laughed, his head going back and his little vampire teeth on display.

"People can't be genius all the time! You aren't perfect all the time," he argued.

"Um… I am… Completely… I've never done a thing wrong in my life,"

"Right. Right. I forgot that you’re God's gift. Sorry. My mistake," he said, grinning. He started to look through his pockets for his lighter.

"Your apology is accepted. What are you doing?"

"Think I've lost my lighter. Where's yours?"

"Fuck, Van. You'd lose your head if it weren't screwed on. It's in my bag," you told him, glancing over and watching him rummage through.

"Alright, Ma, calm the fuck down."

He lit a cigarette even though you'd asked him a million times to not smoke in your car. When you passive aggressively rolled his window down with the driver's side controllers, he smirked.

"Can't be perfect all the time," he said, poking your side and leaning over to hold the cigarette to your lips.

…

"VAN FUCKING MCCANN!" you yelled.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, what you squawking about?" Larry asked, walking into the kitchen. You held up a teapot. He shrugged. Van walked in, just awake and only wearing underwear and socks. Who the fuck wore socks to bed anyway?

"What?" he asked sleepily.

"This is fucking disgusting!"

He walked over and took the pot, he opened it and chuckled. Old loose leaf tea had grown its own eco-system.

"This was from before you left for tour, yeah? Like, it's been sitting here for three weeks?" you guessed.

"Why you yelling at me? Could have been Larry,"

"It wasn't Larry," you said.

"Definitely wasn't Larry," Larry agreed, walking from the room.

"Why you getting upset? Not your teapot. Not your problem," he replied, filling the pot with water and tipping its contents into the sink. You almost gagged.

"I wanted tea," you whispered, defeated.

"Well, wouldn't have a problem if you didn't spend all your time here instead of your own place,"

"Fine!" you replied, walking from the room. Van followed you out and watched you pick up the random clothes belonging to you scattered around his house.

"What are you doing?"

"Going home. Obviously,"

"Y/N. Calm down, yeah? I'll clean the fucking teapot. I'll make you tea. Go sit and have a smoke, yeah? Getting yourself all worked up about nothing,"

"It's gross, Van,"

"Yeah, you say that about me a lot. Go," he repeated, pushing you through the back door to join Larry for a smoke.

You sat on the couch on the back porch and watched the dogs play.

"He's gross," you said. Larry nodded in agreement, tapping ash from his smoke into an ashtray balanced on his knee.

"Yeah, but we gotta love him anyway."

…

"Y/N? Wanna pick something?" Bondy asked, handing over the aux cord.

"No!" Van yelled, grabbing it from you. He held it above your head where you couldn't reach it. "You'll pick something stupid,"

"You are so fucking rude. Give it to me."

You stood on the couch and leant into him to get the cord. One arm around you, he laughed as you squirmed against him.

"Promise it won't be hip hop?"

"No. Fuck you. Gimme," you said.

He gave up and handed the music picking responsibilities to you.

Everyone was happy with Kanye. Even Van. He just wouldn't admit it.

"You're such a sook when you don't get your own way," you said. Van downed the rest of the wine from the glass. The swallowing of which was audible. "Gross,"

"Sooky and gross. Thank you for the constant reviewing," he replied.

You laughed and leant over and kissed his cheek, wiping away a drop of wine from the corner of his mouth.

"I love you," you whispered. He looked over and narrowed his eyes at you.

"I don't love you at all," he replied, hitting you with a pillow.

…

Van stood at the door of your flat, not allowed in. He was being sincere, but it didn't make you hurt less.

"What do you want me to say? I'm sorry, okay? I forgot. I didn't do it on purpose. I just forgot," he said.

"Anything could have happened,”

"I know! I fucking know that. You think I haven’t thought about it? I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry, Y/N. I fucked up. I'm the worst fucking friend you have and I will do anything to make it up to you. I'm sorry!"

Van had promised to pick you up from work because the one bus you could take home had been re-routed. You didn't want to walk through the night to the new stop, and Van didn't want you to either. He'd forgotten about it though. He was always losing things and failing to remember important dates and pieces of key information. Usually, there was no consequence to that. Something really could have happened to you though.

By the time he remembered, you'd already walked to the stop, bused it home, and spent the night feeling sad and forgotten about. It was almost one am when Van came knocking.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

You nodded to yourself, and let him in. He made tea and sat on the couch as you finally got to make someone listen to your new Awaken, My Love vinyl. He either honestly thought it was a good record, or he was doing his best to give you whatever you needed in order to forgive him. Of course you would though. People make mistakes and if you held them all against them, you'd be left alone.

…

"This is a bad idea," Larry said to himself as he stood and watched you and Van move your stuff into their house. It was agreed they needed someone to look after the place and the dogs while they were gone, and you liked the spare bedroom with its floorboards and huge window. You also liked the concept of saving money. Van wouldn't charge you rent, even though you begged him too. He was too stubborn though. Always had been.

"Larry, you gonna fucking help, mate, or just stand about looking pretty?" Van asked. 

"Uh… look pretty?" he replied, walking over and taking the end of the tallboy you had.

"Um… I was doing fine… Van was the one struggling," you said, offended that the assumption was you were the physically weaker.

For a couple of weeks you bit your tongue every time something annoyed you. Then the smell of tobacco in the kitchen, the unwashed dishes, the constantly open doors and windows, all got to you.

"You knew all of this before you moved in!" Van said, unimpressed at another fight.

"Yeah, but…"

"But you thought I'd suddenly change if you moved in?"

"Maybe?" you replied with a shrug.

"My favourite place in the world is this kitchen, having a smoke, Y/N. If we closed the doors and windows it would be worse,"

"But it's so fucking cold."

Van took the hoodie he was wearing off and threw it at you. You couldn't tell if he was being passive aggressive or if he was genuinely looking for a solution. You loved wearing their clothes though, so you put it on regardless. You put your hands in the huge front pocket and looked at Van, a pout set on your face. He held back a smile. Walking to you, he pulled you into a hug.

"Look… I'll try to not make such a mess, but that's all I'm promisin', alright?"

You nodded and hugged him back.

"One condition though," he continued. You groaned. "No more Drake,"

"But!"

"No. Fuckin' no, Y/N. That's the line. I'm drawin' it."

…

When you'd woken up with a burning throat and pounding head, Van had carried you into his bed. You'd always liked his better. Playing doctors all day, he and Larry continually checked on you and brought you painkillers and tea and anything you wanted. When tears kept falling, Van knelt next to the bed. You laid on your side close to the edge, and he ran his hand through your hair.

"Hurts," you whispered. He nodded, understanding.

"What can we do?" You shrugged. "Would it help if I rapped?"

You tried to laugh but it was agony. Van left the room and returned ten minutes later. Larry sat on the end of the bed and made a sound that was meant to be beatboxing but it was definitely not beatboxing. Van cleared his throat then began.

"Pull up in the monster automobile, gangster, with a bad bitch that came from…" He paused. "Chester?" You laughed but it turned into a cough. "Yeah, I'm in that Tonka, colour of Willy Wonka." He paused again. "Fuck, I don’t think I'm meant to say this stuff?"

"Fuck, Van, keep going," Larry said.

"Yeah… 'Kay… Uh, I could be the king but watch the queen conquer." He pointed at you and you grinned. "Okay, first thing's first, I'll eat your brains, then I'mma start rocking gold teeth and fangs." 

Van rapped your favourite verse from your favourite song almost perfectly, with slight adjustments. It was beautiful and horrible and made you love him even more. Larry too.

"Maybe we should do a Kanye song for the Radio One thing?" Larry asked. Van laughed.

They left you to sleep, a little more calm and happy.

Van was right. People couldn't be perfect all the time. But, despite their flaws, despite the things that make you go mad, you could love them so, so much anyway. Not even despite their flaws, but because of them. Van was Van because he was forgetful and chaotic and messy and kind of gross. You'd never, ever stop loving him because of those things. Not when he was also kind and thoughtful and loyal. You wouldn't want him any other way.


End file.
